JournalismPakistan.com July 5, 2013
Yesterday, I received a letter saying ‘Congratulations’ emblazoned across the envelope. Inside was this beautifully printed statement telling me I had won $100,000 and now could afford to make my dreams turn into reality.
It then went on to tell me how my lucky number had come up and what I must do to collect the winnings and how proud everyone was in the world that I had won.
My heart began to beat a little faster. There was no catch. No form to fill, even my name and address were correct. This looked like the real thing and my dreams sort of began to get a more tangible act together.
Ha, I could now look at all our truly rich friends in the eye, change the sofa set and redeem my image so far as my wife was concerned. We would be well off and could say things like let’s do the safari run this vacation. Only poor people say holiday for vacation.
But the mental photoplay ran out of tape.
Because, at the very end of the letter was this single line confession from the signatory that it was one of his dreams to be able to send me such a letter one day if I was to take part in the global mega lottery by sending $100 without any binding clause or whatever.
My heart fell back in speed and the dreams dissolved their cement.
What a gyp. My life is full of such displays of fond faith and I am forever being taken for a ride.
Not so long ago I was told that if I was to write to the top name in the attached list and stick $5 worth of money in the envelope the chain reaction would make for some sort of mathematical rotation which would trigger a cascade of $5 notes in the mail for me and no one ever got anything less than $40,000 dollars.
To back the claim there was this impressive list of historians, scientists, men of letters and celebrities who endorsed the cyclic windfall. The only catch was that I should do it now, like don’t wait, he who hesitates is lost.
Far be it for Vohra to hesitate so I went into my wife's cupboard where I know she kept her ‘saved money’ from trips abroad and swiped a $5 note promising to give back 18.50 dirhams when she discovered it missing. Then I posted it to the first name on the top and sent it off wishing it well.
It has now been five years and not one $5 has yet to show up. Maybe like a snow flurry they are all gathered at the wrong address. You wish.
(The writer is a Senior Editorial Advisor of Khaleej Times and the paper’s former Editor. He has also been the Editor of Gulf News, Gulf Today, Emirates Today and Bahrain Tribune)
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